


Find Happiness Through Hobbies

by GrimSylphie



Series: Finding Happiness [8]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Booker | Sebastien le Livre-centric, Domestic Fluff, Forgery, M/M, Partners in Crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:21:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26087128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimSylphie/pseuds/GrimSylphie
Summary: Joe and Booker’s dates are usually rowdy affairs. These days, even with Booker sober they still end in chaos. Tonight is something different though.Tonight they’re going to forge a painting.
Relationships: Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolo di Genova
Series: Finding Happiness [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1875796
Comments: 20
Kudos: 184





	Find Happiness Through Hobbies

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone for their support. I wrote about a Booker and Nicky solo date and now it’s Joe and Booker’s turn. I think the next part will be something domestic about how they’re becoming a family with André since I haven’t had much of that in these past two parts but I’m not totally sure yet. This also features some Booker introspection about his mortal life and why he became a forger so I hope you enjoy that.

Six months after Nicky and Joe returned to his life Booker looked back and found they fit into his life rather seamlessly. They had agreed to take it slow. Well, as slow as people who had known each other for over two hundred years could take it.

True to their promise Joe and Nicky were proper gentlemen when it came to courting Booker. They always called before coming over and they each did their best to visit Booker and André without being overbearing. So far that meant team dinners on Tuesday nights with Nile. In addition they also spent at least half a day on the weekend with Booker and André. Sometimes Nile came along and other times it was a bonding time for Joe and Nicky to get to know their son and observe and learn from Booker’s parenting. 

Booker found that Joe and Nicky were both great at playing with André. Joe had won him over with his ability to draw almost anyone or anything he could imagine while Nicky proved to be surprisingly adept at legos. Booker found however, they were a bit out of their depth when it came to the complexities of actually parenting him. Booker hoped it was just because they were respecting his boundaries and figured he’d have time to teach them if not. Either way André took to them as well as he had Nile, basking in the glow of having people other than his papa who were invested in his interests.

Tonight was the second Friday of the month which meant it was date night with Joe. They had settled into a schedule fairly easily that gave them time to spend together as a couple. The first week was a date night with Nicky. The second was for Joe. The third was reserved for André. Booker imagined if or more likely when they moved in together it would eventually be a date night for Nicky and Joe. The fourth Friday was always for all three of them to spend together. If there happened to be any extra Fridays that month then they spent them with Nile as a family.

Booker came to enjoy the routine because it always gave him something to look forward to. His co-workers and the moms of André’s classmates had even started to notice a lightness to him on Fridays that couldn’t be solely because of the upcoming weekend. Of course none of them had guessed yet that it was his two boyfriends that were responsible. 

Booker pulled a holey and stained cardigan over his head and checked his hair in the mirror one more time before deeming it satisfactory. Tonight he and Joe were doing something a bit different. His past few dates with Joe had been rowdy fun. Going to the nearest stadium to watch a football game was great even if they did get into a brawl after the game. Then they had gone to concert for a band they found about twenty years ago and gave as good as they got in a mosh pit. Last time they had spent an afternoon on the coastal road driving way to fast on motorcycles they’d held onto for years. 

This time would be something special. It would be something they hadn’t done much since just after the Second World War. Tonight they would be forging a masterpiece. Joe had gotten a call from Copley that The Boulevard of Montmartre at Twilight by Pissarro had resurfaced at an underground auction taking place in Eastern Europe. Quynh and Andy planned a mission to recover it but they wanted a forgery for leverage. More than once they had seen pieces like this destroyed when those who had stolen them realized that Interpol or any number of law enforcement agencies were onto them. To prevent that, they found swapping out the stolen pieces for forgeries was the best way to ensure the pieces stayed intact. It was more work of course but to swap out the piece and then have the place raided was the best way to ensure that those who dealt in stolen art got what they deserved by being caught red handed while providing minimal risk to the original piece. Assuming the forgery was recovered they swapped the two pieces once more and the forgery went into one of their stashes. 

It wasn’t something they had reason to do often. They mostly did it for pieces that had been destroyed so they could still be shared with the world or for ones that couldn’t easily be recovered. Forging something so complex was a high like no other.

Tonight after Nicky came over to watch André, Booker headed over to Joe and Nicky’s place. Nile had spent a few months living with them but had decided to move into an apartment close to the campus she was studying at so she could have a full university experience. 

When he arrived Joe ushered him and pulled him into the guest room. There Booker had covered found that Joe covered the room with tarps and set up an appropriate canvas he prepared himself. Now that Booker was here Joe would mix the paints appropriate to the era and region and they would get started. Joe was the artist between them. He would create new pieces and restore them to their original glory. He wasn’t a forger though. He couldn’t or perhaps wouldn’t restore a work he had only seen in grainy photos posted in the dark web. 

There were no words between them until they got into a flow. Booker sat down in the rolling stool and got to work looking at the pixelated images of the painting he was recreating. He pulled paints and brushes and got to work his mind forgetting the world around him as he focused on the task at hand. 

“What time do you want dinner?” Joe asked after about an hour. 

“Depends.” Booker responded, never turning his gaze from his work. “Are you cooking or ordering in?”

“I have a pastilla that I prepped earlier today, I just have to bake it. Should take 30-40 minutes. Unless you’d rather something else.” Joe explained.

Booker’s stomach growled. A pastilla was a rare treat indeed. Joe didn’t love making the werqa dough so he didn’t make it all that often, despite the team’s objections. “Perhaps you can set it up to finish in an hour or two. As much as I want it now I’m going to need your help showing me the movement required to best achieve these brush strokes he used for the sky.”

That was another aspect of the process. Booker eventually could determine the size and type of brush as well as the hand motion required to replicate brush strokes but it was time consuming. It was far easier to just ask Joe who always seemed to know just how to hold his wrist or flick his brush to get the desired effect. 

Joe walked over and leaned into Booker’s back with the excuse of examining the high quality reference photos of Pissarro’s other works from the Boulevard Monmarte series over his shoulders. “Mmm...” Joe let out a sound of consideration. “I think it should be something like this.” He picked up a brush by leaning further into Booker’s personal space to grab it and ran it along the piece of scrap canvas they kept around for testing. It took him two attempts before he reached the desired effect. “Third time’s the charm.” 

Booker pulled the brush from Joe’s hand and dabbed it with some more paint before attempting to repeat what Joe had done. He got it on the second try, which really was only because he had just seen Joe do it but he couldn’t help but smile at the older immortal. “Got it in two.” 

Joe laughed and pulled away, placing a kiss in Booker’s hair as he went. “Only because you had such an excellent teacher.” With that Joe headed to the kitchen to start baking the pastilla.

Booker continued his work in silence. Joe came in and out to mix paints or clean brushes on the rare occasions it was necessary. Finally, after three quarters of an hour passed Joe returned with dinner, plates, water, and a small folding table to put it all on. “Come take a break while the food is hot.”

“Thanks, Joe.” Booker offered. He pushed some hair from where it had fallen into his face. Joe licked his fingers and wiped off a smear of paint Booker had left behind in his forehead before wiping it on his own pants.

“No problem, my sweet. Now, dig in and let me tell you about this idea I had.” Joe replied. Booker raised an eyebrow in response as he scooped food onto his plate. Once Booker had taken his first bite Joe continued, talking between mouthfuls of his own meal. “So, I know you told me that Nicky and I speaking what Andy calls the worst abuse of two languages in existence sometimes makes you feel left out since you can’t understand it.” That was an understatement. Booker had long desired to learn the mix of their native languages and while he understood some of it, there were too many words that had died long before Booker’s birth that made it difficult to understand. “I still absolutely want to teach it to you because I never want you to feel left out. The thing is, it’s old and ancient like us and usually when there are words that weren’t invented back when Nicky and I first started learning each other’s language we just say them in whatever language we were most recently speaking. I want to change that. I want to, if it’s okay with you, use French to fill in those gaps. That way the language has a part of all of us.” Joe explained.

Booker cracked a small smile. He was honored that these two men cared so much for him that they would go to such lengths to include him in their love. There were times he felt he didn’t deserve it. Especially after what he did. Dr. Auclair and Nile told him he did and now Nicky and Joe echoed that so he worked hard to believe it for himself. “I would be honored. I’d love that. Perhaps we can start linguistics lessons at the end of the month when we go out together.” 

“Well, I can assure you that we’ll make sure your tongue gets a workout.” Joe smirked. Booker cackled. “But yeah, we’ll also teach you. With a mind like yours, you’ll be an expert in no time.”

Booker blushed. “Well anything I can do to contribute to making a language that will make Andy cry. You know, assuming she ever gets back from her violent honeymoon.”

Joe laughed, as he shoved the last of his pastilla in his mouth. Once he finished chewing it he replied. “I’m sure they’ll return eventually. Copley’s sends reports of sightings every now and then.” 

“I’m not worried about them. I’m worried about anyone unfortunate enough to encounter them.” Booker explained before turning back to look at the painting. It was about a third done. It would need a lot more work if they intended to meet the deadline and finish it tonight so that Copley could transfer it to Andy and Quynh who would be doing the infiltration. “Well, better get back to work.” Booker commented.

Joe nodded. “You get started, I’ll do the dishes.”

“Thanks.” Booker answered. “I’d normally help you but I want to get some sleep tonight.” 

“Of course.” Joe replied with a wink. “Maybe if you get it done fast enough we’ll have time for dessert.”

Booker laughed. “Maybe, if you’re lucky.” After about four dates he had started to fall into bed with Nicky and Joe on occasion. It wasn’t every time but it was nice to join with them in that way once more. Tonight he doubted more than a few lazy kisses would happen before they fell asleep, confident that Nicky would care for André until the morning and that they would be able to make it over before he awoke with a little help from the alarm.

Booker moved the chair back in front of the canvas and continued working. As he worked his body relaxed as he focused on capturing each individual facet and essence of the piece. Forging had started as a means of survival. His wife had gotten very sick when pregnant with their youngest son and Booker’s job hadn’t been enough to cover it. He had always been skilled enough at duplicating things, like the signature of the owner of the company he worked for when he wouldn’t be in on time to sign the paperwork required for a project so when Napoleon began to request rolls of men’s names from each town for conscription he wrote himself a medical exemption. After all,he could not leave his wife in that state. He made one or two other forged medical exemptions in exchange for extra coin that allowed them to afford medical care for his wife. It wasn’t until 1810 when the number of conscripts needed was doubled as his second son came down with pneumonia that he found an underground market where those unable to leave their families to serve offered him coin in return for an exemption. At the time Booker thought little of the consequences. His son regained his health under a doctor’s care and he assumed that would be the end of it. He didn’t consider that the consequences for Marseilles failure to fulfill its quota would lead to an investigation. Nor did he consider that the people he had helped would turn him over in exchange for leniency. Forging had saved his family but would also take him from them.

It wasn’t until after his first death that he even considered again. He was hesitant at first, he knew the cost but he had already died. He knew he couldn’t stay with his family if the Grand Armée declared him dead, hung as a deserter. He wanted desperately to return to them so he started by rewriting history. First, he wrote papers claiming his death was a mix up and the deserter was a soldier by a different name. He had been sent home injured instead. Then he began to forge bank notes and coins. His family had been hit hard by his absence so being able to return to them and support them was a necessity. It wasn’t until later that he discovered forging could be more than a way of keeping his family secure. It started when his wife fancied a new wallpaper that was far beyond their budget while they were fixing water damage to the previous designs. Of course Booker could have just forged some notes but he tried not to do so more than necessary Instead he decided to try something new. He recreated the wallpaper by hand for his wife. He found it brought him a sense of joy to successfully copy something and that the process brought him a sense of calm. He started to experiment and learned he could recreate paintings, letters, and even sculptures given enough time.

It wasn’t until after his wife and children cursed his name and he was left with only his immortal family for comfort that he learned that his skills could be used to do good. It started when one of Quynh’s letters got damaged when a new leak formed in the cave where Andy stored it. Andy was bereft, or at least the silent, broody, and frowny Andy equivalent. Booker rewrote it using Quynh’s other letters for reference to see how the unfamiliar script was supposed to be written. When he gave it to Andy it seemed to please her. She seemed happy that if she couldn’t have the original at least she still had it in some form so that the words and feelings would not be lost. From that point on he would make use of it where he could, often doing small things like salvaging small momentos or important works that were too damaged for restoration by recreating them. Joe would often help him by showing him places where differences could be seen because of using the wrong materials. In the fifteen years following World War II it became a nearly full time job. Something the two of them bonded over as they returned lost portraits to the families they were stolen from or replaced works that were confirmed to have been destroyed. It was something good they could do with fighting rather than creating.

“It looks good.” Joe’s soft voice came from behind him, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Booker rolled his chair back to examine the piece. It did look good. He had fallen into such a trance that he didn’t realize how far he had gotten. The street was filled out, each building near complete, the sky looked perfect. “How long were you watching me?” He asked, fully aware of his ability to zone out while working.

“Ehh, three hours. You look like you’re almost done. How many more layers do you think?” Joe asked.

Booker examined the parts he hadn’t finished yet like the light reflecting off windows. “One or two. Maybe another hour.”

“Do you need a snack or a break? Or do you just want to push through it.” Joe asked.

“Push through it. Can you prep the treatments needed?” Booker asked.

“Will do.” Joe responded settling in to start his own work. Even if they used the correct supplies there was a big difference between paint that had been on a canvas for over a hundred years and paint that had been on for a hundred hours. Joe’s task after Booker finished was to prepare and apply treatments that would age the paint until it seemed as if it was properly ancient. 

The two of them worked in silence and about a half hour in Booker called Joe over to begin treating areas that he had finished that were the proper combination of wet and dry to be treated. They worked in tandem, Booker finishing each section and then Joe providing the final touches until just after 02:00 they stood on the other side of the room examining the piece as a whole. 

“I think you’ve outdone yourself this time, Sebastien.” Joe exclaimed, wrapping an arm around Booker and pulling him into his shoulder.

“I think we outdid ourselves. It would have taken me days to get some of those strokes right if it weren’t for you, Yusuf.” Booker replied leaning his head into Joe’s neck and allowing Joe to lead him through the house to the bedroom.

Joe laid him down on the bed and began undressing the younger immortal until all that remained was his briefs. “Did you miss this? Forging I mean?” He asked.

Booker closed his eyes and allowed Joe to undress him. He wasn’t able to hide the small moan that came out of his mouth when Joe began to massage his wrists and hands, both of which were tense after working for hours on end. “Ahhh. Yes. Of course. I missed this. Ahh. Almost as much as I missed doing it with you.” Booker responded, trying to hold back his moans.

For a moment Joe left him and Booker peaked an eye open. The room was mostly dark with just a single bedside lamp turned on. Booker could see from the dim light Joe was stripping himself hastily, his body haloed by the light. He seemed eager to join Booker on the bed. When he returned Joe pulled Booker’s body close to him and up against the headboard so they were laying side by side. “I’m glad. I missed doing this with you.” He offered before pulling Booker into a lazy kiss. Booker returned it and soon they were making out, tongues chasing each other. It wasn’t frantic but instead slow and somewhat soft, both men exhausted by their night’s work. Eventually the kisses gave way to staring, each taking in the sight of the other man, too exhausted to do more than just be next to one another. Finally Joe reached up to turn off the light and they fell into a world of dreams together.


End file.
